//------------------------------// // Y.M.C.A. // Story: Not\e/worthy // by YarnWeaver //------------------------------// Not\e/worthy Part of the PonyEarthVerse By: YarnWeaver Chapter 7: Y.M.C.A. Sunday, P.E.08 - 9:52 A.M. Santa Fe, TX - Somepony Nutty Sadly, Church was forgotten that day. It's something I regret even now. Jenny, Jimmy, and Barty were quick to offer me any help I might need, be it cooking breakfast, carrying me to another part of the house until I could walk on my own again, or searching online for solutions, respectively. It was strange, being so small. I would almost equate it to my own time as a small child, but my mother was nowhere near as caring as my own wife and sons have been, even before this happened to me. It was not a happy time; I'll leave it at that I asked James first for him to take me to the Master Bathroom. On the way there, I spotted a couple of peculiar items laid out on my and Jenny's bed. The first was a small, yellow polo shirt, and the second... ...a rubber chicken. Those were definitely not there last night. However, from the moment I laid eyes on them I could feel an almost tangible longing for them. Though I know for a fact that I've never seen those two particular items before in my life, it feels like they're mine. James is just as dumbstruck as I at their inexplicable presence, but I regain my wits quickly and tell him to ignore them for now. I need to see what's happened with my own eyes. We get to the long mirror above the dual sinks of the Master Bathroom, and I finally see my reflection. I look so young. I was a man in my mid 50's before. This pony appears to be just entering his prime with large, pickle green eyes, cheesy orange fur, and a single curled lock on his forehead that led into a tangled mass of bread crust brown for both a mane and...tail. I sigh. Any sort of illusion that I was anything close to being human anymore had just been snuffed out. James set me down on the counter and wordlessly left the room. I propped myself up with my...arms...legs...I'm not sure what to call them now. I sigh again, close my eyes and bow my head to pray. Father, I am so confused. You made me in Your Image, and now I no longer recognize it. Please...Please reveal to me Your Will for my life, and what You want me to do from here. I know that You are the Alpha and the Omega. You can take even a disaster like this and use it for some good. Please, Father, show me the way. Amen. "Hey, Dad! Grit those teeth!" "Wha-?" -SPLAPP!!- -pomf- ...my son... ...just smacked me... ...across the face... ...with a rubber chicken. James just smacked me across the face with a rubber chicken. I just got smacked by a rubber chicken! How about Chicken a la King? Lesley escaped with a Chicken?! Liverwurst, liverwurst, Chicken, or Liverwurst? Chicken Boo, what's the matter with you? What's wrong, Colonel Sanders, Chicken? Did you order Original Recipe or Extra Crispy? -SNORT!- "BHA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!" In seconds, I'm rolling on the carpet and laughing my head off! Father, what am I doing? Why do I find this so funny? You know what? I needed a good laugh, anyway. I'm just going to call that a gift! Thank you! At that point, something just came over me. I didn't fight it, though. I embraced it! I cast a quick, stealthy glance at Jimmy. My eldest son had just committed an act of aggravated assault against his own father; this required some discipline! He had been stunned by my sudden fit of laughter. Perfect! Drawing on instincts from who-knows-where, I spring up at just the right angle to snatch the weapon out of his grasp and toss it into the air. Then I jump back to catch it, and I kid you not, I also throw in a backflip for good measure, catching the offending item perfectly on my head. All is set. "Hey, Jimmy-James, I got a question for you! Why did the boneless chicken cross the road?" I pose to my son as I continue bouncing the object of impact into the air with my noggin. My son, bless his heart, is only able to rasp out a breathless, "Why...?" I still don't know how I know this is going to work, but I've gone too far to stop now! Here's the kicker! I launch the key to my success high up into the air! I drumroll my hooves into the carpeting and smile in anticipation! Just as the payload completes its arc, I turn into a small hop forward and land sideways with my forehooves parallel to the front of the under-sink cabinet and my rear up in the air, grinning ear to ear at the fate about to befall my firstborn! I'm in position. The chicken falls. Now for the piece de resistance! "To get to the Cheese Sandwich on the other side!!'" The "boneless chicken" flies past the spot on my back upon which I somehow know he always "rode" and lands directly on my rump just above the picture of a vertically halved grilled cheese sandwich. And his body hits the floor. "DA-HA-HAD!! OH, GOSH, DAD THA-HAT WA-HAS HO-HO-HORRIBLE-HA-HA!!" I calmly walk on my four hooves over to his mirthfully contorted face, and fire my next volley. "Wow, my Punch Line sure was a Gut Buster, huh, Jimmy?" "AAAAAAHHA-HA-HA STAH-HA-HA-HAHP IT!! I CAN'T BREATHE!!!" I'm not entirely sure how this next part happened, but before I know it I'm underneath him, and, with a quick flex, I extend my deceptively strong legs and lift him up on my back effortlessly. Meanwhile, the chicken had migrated to its new location, draped over my longer-than-I-have-any-reason-to-be-used-to neck. I then pronk my way out of the Master Bedroom and into the Family Room where I lay into him with salvo number three! "Come now, James, no need to get carried away!" I rear up a bit when I've found a nice spot in front of the couch, and he just flops down onto the carpet, quaking and convulsing. "GAAAAAAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA!!! OKAY! I GIVE! I GIVE! UNCLE! MERCY! I'M SORRY-HEE-HEE-HEEEEE!!!" Then, just like that, the instincts I mysteriously acquired departed, and I stumbled my way over to him and placed my right forehoof on his shoulder. "I forgive you." He slowly recovered his wits, and turned over so we were face to face. "Thanks, Dad. I missed this." I threw my arms around my son's neck and we hugged. "Now," I pat him on the back, breaking the hug, "c'mon, get up. Your mother probably needs help in the kitchen." I hold onto his shoulders as he stands up, and he assumes the, now ironic, "holding" position before I plop into his outstretched arms. I barely notice that I've lost sight of "Ol' Boneless", but I pay it no mind. I can tell that he's nearby. That, and something smells lovely!